Norfolk loyalists have remained deeply suspicious about changes dressed up as progress ever since that crafty reprobate Maximum Secondhomeicus launched his Best-Crept Pillage Competition for posh visitors a few centuries ago.

We’re advised how that fearsome Roman army of occupation had gone by 420, as they didn’t fancy getting caught up in rush-hour traffic largely of their own making. It had more than doubled by 430 AD ( Approaching Deadlock).

New roads, new towns, new industries, ,booming economic and social development  … mission accomplished!

So much better than Norfolk BC (Broadband Coming). Invaders could pack their togas, helmets and dialect phrase-books after farewell cheese-and-mead parties and move on to enlighten a few other musty corners across the globe.

It was missionary work with perks on an industrial scale and set the mood for so many others intent on dragging Norfolk out of the Dark Ages by giving them things already mucking up places from which their would-be saviours had escaped in earnest droves.

As one old Norfolk boy mused many potholes later as he sipped a pint of mild in the snug of The Eradicated Coypew: “Thass bin a’gorn on since time immoral!”.

Majority of people in Norfolk when the Romans called  were small farmers leading useful lives either in villages or remote farmsteads. Peasants were apt to mardle fondly about those good old days when you could get a grandstand seat for a spot of sacking, burning and looting and cheer that mawther “Boodiker” as she hossed past in her chariot on the way to another important battle or W I (Wild  Iceni) meeting.

There were persistent rumours of rampant anti-social behaviour on day outings to Camulodundum, Verulamium and Londinium, (later known as Colchester. St Albans and The Smoke), but those phlegmatic sons and daughters of the soil knew it best to keep their noses out of matters that didn’t immediately concern them.

They did encounter one Roman soldier seeking strawfloor-and-breakfast on his way to Fenland to weigh up salt production, an important local industry destined to become an imperial monopoly. This soldier refused to give his name and number for security reasons. His hosts at Dundiggin (three stars, all visible through the roof), dubbed him Sorftewlicus and passed on condiments of the season…

Evening classes in pottery, spinning, weaving, tax levies, map reading and foreign languages were sponsored by building contractors Daub & Wattle in areas with growing populations, especially after  after the town of Venta Icenorum sprang from the pastures of what we now know as Caistor St Edmund, a few miles from Norwich.

This is not to be confused with Caister-on- Sea, a new port founded by the Romans near the mouth of the Yare in readiness for importing holidaymakers, hessian nightshirts, Scottish fishergirls ,slot machines and offshore wind experts.

It was a shrewd move by developers keen on bare-faced bribery (now known as planning gain) to include in the new town’s name some sort of tribute to the Iceni tribe once so prominent in these parts before being put to the sword. Even so, proposals for a Boadicea Bistro and Woad Safety Information Centre in the stone forum were turned down by licensing authorities.

There is some evidence\Venta Icenorum had both a water supply and sewerage system. A bath house proved particularly popular among casually-dressed tourists later revealed to be early Saxon spies on their way to Sutton Who for a chariot boat sale – original version of the car boot extravaganza.

The Romans were determined to underline importance of new roads, not least to get them out of certain locations in a hurry when colonial benevolence might not be fully appreciated. Perhaps the Pedallers’ Way  was their most ambitious project, linking north Essex with the Wash and Lincolnshire.

 It failed only because their patent for a wooden bicycle got lost in the post. At least that’s what that lot up in Londinium said.

Venta Icenorum Town Senate’s Infrastructure Policy sub-committee spent many a fractious hour discussing merits or otherwise of street lighting on edge of town before permanent fortifications could be built. The local paper, The Taciturn Tablet, revelled in “Roman in the gloamin” headlines,

One of their guest columnists, Ringroadicus, constantly chided “ blinkered sections of the population who set up ludicrous barriers in way of glorious tomorrows”. He also demonstrated a remarkable gift for seeing into the future when he urged all readers to “keep on taking the Tablet and back the NDR campaign”.

In fact he was referring not to the Northern Distributor Road  but to the much-vaunted Never Doubt Romans philosophy. This should not detract from what he and colleagues did for us.